Ghost

I never believed in ghosts. I was a skeptic and a non believer if there ever was one. In my town there is a notoriously haunted house which was build in 1844. It is three stories tall and looks like a haunted house out of a childs story book.

The house is usually vacant but it once housed a restaurant which occupied the building for several years.

One day after eating there the restaurant was almost empty. It was early evening and I decided to explore the place. I asked permission to walk around and the manager said it was ok.

The bar had no customers and the bartender was no there at that moment.

Snooping around I saw a small door which opened onto a empty area.

I walked in and I heard a noise behind me. I turned around and there was a tall man wearing a bowler hat dressed in black very dated clothing. I stood transfixed looking at him. I realized that he was nearly transparent and he or whatever it was made no sound. It just stood there.

The hair on the back of my head stood on end. I could not make a sound as I stood there transfixed and spellbound. Totally in awe of what I was seeing.

As suddenly as he appeared he disappeared growing more transparent until he was gone. Then I ran and got the H*** out of there.

The manager of the restaurant told me I saw the original owner of the house and that many of his employees had seen the apparition too.

I may have been seeing things but overall I feel that there is much to be learned that we currently don't know.

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When I was six my grandparents babysat me at an old house built circa 1920. The toy room was upstairs in my aunt's old room.

One day I was playing with cars when some neighbors came to visit. A little boy about my age came into the room and we started playing together. He said his name was James and we had a lot of fun playing, I had assumed he came with the neighbors.

After a while the neighbors were getting ready to leave and James said he had to go. He left the room and I didn't think twice of him.

Later I came downstairs and my grandma asked who I had been talking to and I told her about James. She told me that it had only been Mr Sisel and his wife that visited, no little boy.

She went and did some digging at the library and on my next visit a few weeks later she showed me a picture of a little boy and asked if that was him that I had seen. It was James in that picture. My grandma told me that in 1935 the youngest child of the previous house owners had died in that room of pneumonia. His name had been James. (For that matter, all three of the children and the wife had died in that house for various reasons, I'm glad that the oldest brother never put in an appearance he was the suicide by hanging on the bannister)

The house is still in our family, now its my younger uncle's house. Whenever I stay there I prefer to sleep in that room. I feel oddly at peace in that room like I've got a friend standing guard. I don't like sleeping in my oldest uncle's old room or even being in there it feels like someone is angrily glaring at me from a spot on the upper right corner of the northern wall.